


Ribbons

by Beleriandings



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dreams, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 08:46:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2501690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Late at night, Maedhros falls asleep reading old letters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ribbons

“Is he asleep?”

“Ssh!” Elrond hushed his brother as they peered around the door. “Yes he is, but he won’t be if you talk so loud!”

Curious, they padded into the study. The ashes in the grate were cold, the remnant of a fire that had burned away to nothing hours ago, and the curtains let in narrow a strip of moonlight to fall across the room. Slumped asleep across the desk with his hair spilling out across a pile of papers was Maedhros, his head pillowed on an arm, a small frown upon his scarred, seamed face.

“See? He’s asleep” whispered Elros.

Elrond shuffled his feet nervously. “We shouldn’t be here, Elros.”

“Aw, don’t worry. Maglor said Maedhros would never hurt us. But it might be our only chance to see this room! You were the one who wanted to see what Maedhros stays up all night reading.” Elros gestured at the desk, his voice hushed. “Let’s have a look, now we’re here, and then get out.”

“Mmm” said Elrond unwillingly.

Quietly, they went to the desk, peering silently at the papers.

“Old letters” said Elrond quietly. “Look at the paper, it’s all crinkly.”

“Do you know the handwriting?”

“No, but it’s not Maglor’s. It’s Quenya, though.”

“One of their little brothers, maybe?”

“Hmm” murmured Elrond, trying to read a letter upside down, not daring to upset anything on the table.

“ _Dearest Maitimo – It’s been a cold winter in Hithlum, but all I could think of was you, freezing up there on your rock at the edge of the world. I do hope you haven’t been despairing too much. I miss you more than I can say. Maybe in a few months I can -_  ”

Elrond craned, trying to read more, but the paper was tucked under another letter. “-  _was drunk and dancing on the table at the midwinter festival this month past. You should have seen it, Maitimo, I’m sure it would have got a smile even from -_ ”

On another he could make out the words “ _\- enclose some ribbons for your hair. Not gold, of course, for it was never your best colour. Silver. We could be as the Two Trees, you and I! I will braid them into your hair myself next time I am there, you can count that a promise. Some of the boring ones amongst your people will look askance for sure, at even that small blasphemy. Raging hypocrites, the lot of them. But in the meantime, think of it as a reminder of better -_ ”

Then there was another “ –  _we will come bearing the banners of the high king. I know you will think the full diplomatic party unnecessary (or perhaps you will not! I know that you like such trappings) but Atar insists. All very tiresome, of course, but worth it to stand on the battlements of Himring beside you within the year, to -_  ”

“Who are they from?” whispered Elros, peering over Elrond’s shoulder.

“I don’t know” said Elrond, twitching a little as Maedhros stirred in his sleep. When he went still again, Elrond frowned, looking at something else that was on the table. A pile of silver ribbons, he saw at once, old and frayed and worn looking, but neatly folded on the desk.  _The ones mentioned in the letter?_

“He looks so sad” said Elros suddenly. “Maedhros. We should do something while he sleeps, to make him happy. To remind him of better times.”

Elrond looked between his brother and the pile of silver ribbons, and then at Maedhros’ long, loose hair spilling over the table. “Yes” he said on an impulse. “Yes, let’s.”

———-

Maedhros dreamed. In his dream, there were fingers running through his hair and words running through his head, soft and reassuring, speaking of mundane, everyday happenings in that way that made his heart feel like to burst with joy.

 _Hold still Maitimo, let me braid your hair._  The fingers that slipped through it were quick and lithe, brushing against his scalp and twining the ribbons through it with practiced deftness.

 _Fin, that’s enough,_  he had protested, but he had laughed as he said it.  _I’ll sparkle like nothing in this world. I’ll look ridiculous._

 _You could never look ridiculous; you’ll only look more beautiful, beloved one._ A smile, a laugh, those soft, brushing fingers he had never been able to deny.

The dream twisted and rippled, turned to smells and feelings and colours. Sun slanting through the window. Red hair and black tangled together, the flash of a smile as a figure turned to meet his eye in the last light of the sun, cloak lifted by the wind on the battlements. Comforting hands holding his own hand between them, braiding his hair once again.

Suddenly there was a voice, harsh and real, from outside. The dream was dissolving, colours melting away.

_No, Findekáno, don’t go, this is the only way I can see you now, don’t let me wake, come back, come back, I never said –_

“Brother? Little ones? What’s going on?”

Maedhros’ eyes flickered open, and he raised his head sharply, neck stiff from sleeping at his desk.

His brother stood at the door, staring into the room, while Elros and Elrond tried futilely to hide behind the desk, identical guilty expressions on their faces.

“We only wanted to look at…” said Elros, tailing off as though thinking what to say.

“We wanted to make you happy, Maedhros” said Elrond suddenly, voice growing louder. “There were the silver ribbons, and we thought…” he glanced up at Maedhros’ hair, doubt suddenly flashing across his face. “Did we do wrong?”

Slowly, Maedhros raised his hand to touch his hair, and felt a pang when he felt that it had been braided with the ribbons, the soft satin touch of which had brought him both solace and acute pain for so long.

“I…” he choked out. “I have not worn these for…”

“For many years” put in Maglor, his voice like stone. “Boys, go to bed now. I mean it. We will speak in the morning.”

Gently but firmly, he propelled the twins from the room, as Maedhros watched in silence. Elrond shot a regretful look over his shoulder as he left.

After a moment Maglor returned, lighting the candle on the desk and pulling up a chair beside Maedhros, sitting in silence for a while before he spoke.

“I’m sorry” Maglor said at last. “You mustn’t blame the children. They weren’t to know. They just wanted to make you happy.”

“Yes” said Maedhros hollowly.

“Nelyo, I know how hard it is.”

 _Do you?_  “Yes.”

Maglor placed his hand on Maedhros’, looking down at the letters he had been reading with a slight frown on his face. “Perhaps you shouldn’t - ”

“What right have you to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do?” Maedhros rounded on his brother, rage welling up in him suddenly from he knew not where, before ebbing away as quickly as it had come, leaving him feeling a weak and helpless. “Káno, I’m sorry…”

“Hush” said Maglor, squeezing his hand, “I know. I know.”

“He would hate what I have become” said Maedhros desolately, in a small voice.

“Perhaps not” said Maglor. “The children… we took them in, did we not?”

“ _You_  took them in” said Maedhros.

“They love you too” pointed out Maglor. “They  _want_  you to be happy, Nelyo. If tonight is proof of nothing else, it’s proof of that.”

“Mmm. Perhaps.”

“Come on.” Maglor gathered up the pile of letters on the table, squaring off the edges neatly and placing them back in the desk drawer.  _Maglor knew where Maedhros kept them; always close. Always there._ “You need to sleep, and not here. You will feel better in the morning.”

_Will I? Why?_

But all he said was “you’re right. Please Káno, help me…?” He gestured to the braids in his hair, cursing his missing hand. “I don’t want to wear them. I don’t…” he felt his voice cracking, and swallowed. “Not now.”

“Of course” said Maglor gently, already beginning to unravel a braid, laying the ribbon to one side with exquisite care. When he had finished, he gathered them and folded them neatly, placing them atop the pile of letters.

Maedhros sighed as the desk drawer closed, thinking of the dream. “Thank you.”


End file.
